


There's Blood On The Crown

by runsoftbin



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Ancient History, Angst, Deaf Character, Hurt/Comfort, Joseon, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-07-07 23:14:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19859593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runsoftbin/pseuds/runsoftbin
Summary: “I’m thinking.” The Prince said.“About what?”The Prince then props his body on his elbow, looking at Jiwon straight to the eyes.“About us,” he rests his palm on Jiwon’s chest, “...what if I’m just me, and you’re just you. I am not a Prince, and you are not a knight. Maybe somewhere, sometimes, there will be another June… another Jiwon… Maybe that time, one of us would be a girl. Or maybe we will  be born in the time when people accept our kind of love.”By the time he is saying the last sentence, his tears fall.“...I always pray for a time when love can be easy for us, Jiwon…”





	1. In your dreams, do you love me?

**Author's Note:**

> I was preparing for this story when 'that' happened, and I honestly feel really bad to keep this waiting.  
> I honestly like this story so much (well, I like all my stories lol) and I feel like it's a pity if I don't continue this.
> 
> Don't yall worry, this story is as good as done already in my draft.  
> I just need time to fine-tune them. This will only be a few chapters long, to be honest.
> 
> Also, I love Junbob.  
> This has been all I am thinking about. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy another messy story from me.  
> Writing is my shelter, so please excuse me.
> 
> Enjoy yall.

The same awful recurring dreams that Jiwon has don’t really leave traces; but he can recognize that eyes anywhere—under the dim street light after rain, under the piercing light of the red sun... in nights of cold winter and in the sharp jabs of ultraviolet on the peak of summers.

In Jiwon’s dreams, there were tears on those big and slightly slanted eyes--they were red and the bluish spot under them send tingles on Jiwon’s little heart. He can almost imagine how tender the skin feels against his fingertips. But they are ridiculous. Dreams that are not even vivid can lead Jiwon to someone so sad-looking, who talks to people using dull pencils and yellowish papers, who doesn’t even flinch when his name is being called.

He had spent nearly a month, everyday sitting on the same spot in a small pinkish cafe that doesn’t really go with his own image. Every day consists of same difference, Jiwon had learned the pattern; how the boy sips his milk slowly even though it is not anymore hot; how he looks at nothing in particular looking like he’s gonna cry; then he will write, and he will scratch the letters off, sometimes he rips the pages, but sometimes he reads the sentences and smiles ever so slightly.

Jiwon always waits for the smile. As faint as it is.

When Jiwon looks at him, he thinks of autumn nights. Of rain and the smell of petrichor; of old papers and the smell of inks and oil paints.

Jinhwan says his name is Junhoe. “ _Is pronounced Jun-Hwe_ ,” he said, “... _but it isn’t like he can complain if you call him differently_.”

Jinhwan was referring to the small, almost unnoticeable piece inside of the boy’s ears. And Jiwon thinks the Autumn nights are colder nowadays, than what he ever remembers.

.

.

.

_“I don’t want to be a king.” the boy said—his hanbok is dirty and wet and maybe he will get in trouble for that. He will just beg the queen for forgiveness and maybe cry a little._

_“Why?” the boy beside him—whose hanbok is even dirtier and wetter—said, he’s trying to wipe the mud off the other boy’s left cheek._

_“The King’s seat is cold. And lonely.”_

_The boy with bunny teeth smiles, eyes disappearing under the sun, “I will warm them for you. I’ll be your knight.”_

_The other boy looks even sadder now._

_“Knights go to wars. You might not even come back.”_

_The boy’s smile falters, and then disappears completely._

_“I will always come back.”_

_And the other boy always think that it is a promise._

_._

_._

_._

“What’s his deal?” Jiwon asks, referring to the boy with sad eyes, to Jinhwan who is brewing coffee.

“What’s ‘ _your’_ deal, man? What’s with all these bruises?”

Jiwon traces the wound on his left eyebrow with his fingertips, smiling a little although the pain pricks him like needles.

“Just superhero stuff you won’t understand.” he said, wanting to shrug it off.

“You fight for what? Money? For God’s sake stop hanging out with weird people, Jiwon.”

Jiwon shoves Jinhwan’s shoulder—it was meant to be playful but the force causes Jinhwan to steps back a little bit.

“So, tell me what’s his deal.”

.

.

.

_“The Crown Prince is very sickly, he cannot even hold a sword. How will we have a strong King to inherit the crown?”_

_The rumor blows like wind, filling the gaps between the palace’s wall, can be heard in every corner of Hanyang. Jiwon thinks instead of closing his ears, he needs to silence the mouths that dare to speak ill of his Crown Prince. But his sword is too sharp for harmless birds, his faith is too strong and no one knows the Crown Prince better than him, anyway._

_“The Crown Prince is intelligent, he is skilled in literature, he is fond of arts. His knowledge matches those who are in higher level, older in ages. He will be a wise King in the future.”_

_Another day, another whisper. Jiwon likes this type of whispers—the Crown Prince is good, is better than anyone and he knows that._

_“But this kingdom needs a strong King. The future ahead isn’t so bright. People needs to be protected. If the Crown Prince cannot show his ability and gain people’s trust, isn’t it the best to just dethrone him?”_

_Jiwon was about to pull his swords out but then he remembers the Crown Prince saying, “Knights don’t beat up people for fun, Jiwon.”_

_That alone can make Jiwon put the swords back into its stealth._

_._

_._

_._

_“Hi, can I sit here?”_

Jiwon had learned sign language for two weeks from Youtube and he actually regrets his courage to actually use it to talk with Junhoe. The boy looks up to Jiwon who is standing right across his table, confused and hesitated.

Jiwon wants to disappear and pretends that the scene never happened.

But then the boy nods. Jiwon wants to thank the heaven.

The boy is wearing a white tee covered by black plaid shirt. His hair is down covering his forehead, slightly long that they cover the device on the back of his ears. Jiwon cannot miss the little detail like the mole on his lower lip. It feels like Jiwon had known that lips longer—the shape, the color, even the feeling against his fingertips.

Jiwon must be too tired. Or there is finally something wrong with his brain after lots and lots of beatings.

Being so close with Junhoe feels weird; like this feeling is so familiar, but he cannot put his fingers on it. Like the way he blinks, Jiwon knows it, but at the same time that’s ridiculous. He’s only been watching this boy for a month.

_“Do you know me?”_ the boy signs.

It honestly still amazes Jiwon how he can understand simple sign language already only after learning it for a short time. Jiwon can’t even English after living in Virginia for years. Oh, things he does for the boy with sad eyes.

Jiwon answers by simply shaking his head.

The boy looks away. Call Jiwon crazy but he looks even sadder now.

Stupid Jiwon. He doesn’t know what to do.

Or what to say.

Or how to say it.

.

.

.

_“I saw you watching me from across the room.”_

The neat hangul on the yellowish paper said, shoved by Junhoe towards Jiwon. It’s been three days, Jiwon counts, he sits just across Junhoe in the cafe. They didn’t even communicate with each other, just Junhoe being busy with his papers and Jiwon being busy with his phone.

Reading the paper, Jiwon smiles awkwardly. He then takes one of Junhoe’s pen and write just below the other boy’s writing.

_“You notice? Sorry. I must look creepy.”_

Jiwon shoves it towards Junhoe and the boy makes a gesture to show Jiwon _“a little”._

Then, Junhoe writes again.

_“You don’t have to write things down. I can read lips.”_

“Oh, really? Alright, then, I guess I can just speak like usual.”

Junhoe grabs the paper again, and writes: _“not too fast.”_

“Yep, alright, understood.”

Jiwon smiles so wide that his bruised jaw hurts.

_“Why do you always have wounds?”_

“Oh… this? I am a… boxer? Yeah… I’m a fighter, but sometimes I work for people too, you know, like as bodyguards or something.”

Junhoe’s expression changes, he lowers his gaze, focusing on the pencil that he twirls on his fingers. Jiwon cannot read that, doesn’t know what that expression means.

This is the face that he sees in his dreams. And he always wonders why.

.

.

.

_“Your Highness,” it’s the third time the eunuch comes to the garden just a little behind the Palace, “The King wishes you to join the diner with all the Ministries and Noble guests tonight. You would need to prepare now, Your Highness.”_

_The Prince is sitting on a big rock, crossing his legs with paper on his thigh and brush on his right hand. He is closing his eyes, feeling the cool breeze on his skin, listening the birds flapping their wings, enjoying the smell of grass, of old tree. Of a little pretend freedom._

_“Prince Hanbin is attending the dinner… He should be enough.” he said, without opening his eyes._

_“But Your Highness,” the eunuch looks at Jiwon as if he is asking for help, but Jiwon just stands there like what he always does. He’s only there to make sure of the Prince’s safety, not to persuade him to do anything to fit the King’s agenda. “...they would need the next crown-bearer to be there.”_

_The Prince then opens his eyes slowly._

_“...I never agree to that.” he said. There is a little sarcastic smile on his lips—and Jiwon loves this look on him. Brave. Mischievous. Confident. “...I would rather Prince Hanbin be the next crown-bearer… He is strong and brave. Isn’t it what the people want?”_

_The Prince dips his brush in the ink again. “What do you think, Jiwon?”_

_Jiwon smiles a little, wanting to go with the Prince’s mischievousness. “Well, Your Highness, I am in no place to answer that…,” he looks at the eunuch who looks worried, “...but I did hear that a lot from people in Hanyang.”_

_“...but, Your Highness… You are the oldest son of the Queen and Prince Hanbin is the son of the King’s second wif—”_

_“Tell the King…,” the Prince smirks, “...I cannot eat with so many people. Tell the King and all the Ministries that I am “too sickly” to join such an important dinner.”_

_The Prince then continues to let his brush dance on the paper, handwriting so neat and perfect, words by words has meanings that sometimes Jiwon cannot even reach. Jiwon loves this; his posture. The way he holds his brush. The way he smiles when he has written a satisfying piece of poetry. Of story. Of anything that is equally as beautifully complicated as he is—of happiness. Of a little bit of love too._

_Jiwon always waits for the smile._

_The Prince would read his poetry to Jiwon proudly. His voice is deep and soothing—Jiwon can listen to it forever._

_“What are you waiting for? You’re dismissed.” the Prince said, and the eunuch just bows and hurriedly go back to the palace. Seeing his worried face, the Prince laughs._

_And his laugh, Jiwon swears, what a blessing must it be to carry so much beauty and grace._

_“Jiwon… You want to hear what I write today?”_

_He looks proud and that smile makes him looks even younger._

_“It’s my pleasure, Your Highness.”_

_He always cringes at that name when Jiwon calls him. Too foreign, he said. Jiwon is a friend, he said. When they grow up, the Prince had told Jiwon to address him with his name only, but as people hear it Jiwon got into trouble. Since then, they had an agreement that Jiwon would only call him by name outside the Palace only, when it’s only the two of them._

_“It is a song this time.” he says._

_There is an indescribable feeling that fills Jiwon’s entire being when the Prince starts to sing. Jiwon had heard him sings so many times, yet each time it still feels like the very first time. Like Jiwon can never be prepared of how good it is. How soothing. How it sends warmth to Jiwon’s heart like it is something that heals him from the inside._

“Just like the wind blows, the autumn leaves tremble.

Just like the waves occur, the ocean trembles.”

_Jiwon closes his eyes. He will remember this in his heart, will carry this with him everywhere he goes._

.

.

.

_“I am a translator. Japanese-Korean-Japanese. People send me documents to translate by email.”_

Jiwon reads the neat handwriting. They have been talking for a few days and at the end of every day Jiwon always ask if the next day Junhoe will be at the coffee shop and if Jiwon can join him again in the far back corner of the shop. Junhoe always nod to that question, and each day, Jiwon feels more excited than before. Each day, he knows Junhoe better than before.

Junhoe suffers from progressive hearing loss—his left ear losts 83% of its hearing ability and his right ear losts about 65%. He wears hearing aid to help him eliminate the noises and to be able to focus on voices, although right now it is not helping that much anymore. He can actually hear different pitches to different degrees. He said he can hear better low pitched thing, like whispers. Not so much high-pitched voices or sounds, like screams, or serine.

Today, Junhoe doesn’t wear his hearing aid. His mood is a little better—Jiwon knows because he smiles a little bit more. He has his laptop with him now, actually working instead of writing things on his black book. He has strawberry milkshake today—this probably is his good-mood drink.

_“You don’t wear your hearing aid today.”_

Jiwon shoves a paper to attract Junhoe’s attention.

_“Hearing aids make my head hurts.”_ he signs, and Jiwon understand by how he change is expression.

Jiwon feels bad for him, but he doesn’t tell him that.

The hearing loss is progressive, and the only way to get better requires a surgery. They have discussed about this before, how Junhoe doesn’t want to go under surgery because he doesn’t believe in the success rate, and how he doesn’t really have money to spend for a surgery that has a big chance to fail anyway.

Junhoe said he doesn’t really bother to get better anymore. Junhoe said he’s already content with how it is, hearing or not, there is no difference for him anyway.

But Jiwon wants Junhoe to get better.

Jiwon wants Junhoe to be able to listen to music. To be able to hear the sound of the rain. To be able to distinguish Jiwon’s voice in a crowded place.

Jiwon wants Junhoe to get better.

Many minutes later, when Jiwon is busy gaming in his phone, Junhoe closes his laptop and then stretches his body a little. He looks like a tired puppy and Jiwon smiles a little.

_“I finished my work.”_

_“You want to read what I write today?”_

Jiwon feels something in his chest—almost like he’s choking on air. There is something there that feels so much like longing, like this is something he craves. It brings tears to his eyes and burns his chest.

Jiwon isn’t sure how long he is just sitting there, eyes glued to the paper on the table. Frozen. Scenes and scenes are running through his head and most of them are those sad eyes--and there were images of perfect nose. Of silk. Of ink. Of yellow paper and neat handwriting.

A touch on his hand wakes Jiwon up from his thoughts, and when he lifts his head, Junhoe is there. He signs a quick _“are you ok?”_ to Jiwon, which he nods to.

It is so confusing, how familiar Junhoe’s eyes are. Like they are something Jiwon had known for a long time. Like something he’s never allowed to forget.

“Yeah. I want to read them.” he said.

Then Junhoe smiles.

The smile, Jiwon thinks, how they are still so foreign, but at same time so familiar.

.

.

.

Jiwon holds Junhoe’s hand for the first time when it was raining. They had agreed to meet outside the coffee shop sometimes, and Junhoe likes to sit by the river and see colorful lights of the city. Jiwon had pulled Junhoe’s hand and guide him to run and find some shelter. Junhoe had laughed at that, even though Jiwon wasn’t sure why.

Junhoe’s hand feels as familiar as the rest of him—his eyes. The way he moves. The way he furrowed his eyebrows when he’s thinking. The sound of Junhoe’s laugh is new to Jiwon, and he wants to remember that for a very long time.

Jiwon brings Junhoe to his flat for the first time that night too. The two of them drenched from head to toe, and Junhoe was shaking because of the cold. His face and palms are white and wrinkly because of the water, but his lips are still red. Jiwon had kicked away a few dirty clothes and another unimportant things that scattered around his floor to make way for Junhoe, nonverbally telling him to sit on the bed instead.

_“So messy. Like me.”_ Junhoe signed. He fakes a disgusted expression and that makes Jiwon laugh.

Junhoe just stand there because he was freezing, and dumbass Jiwon only realized it when he hears Junhoe’s teeth chattered. He went to his closet and picked Junhoe his nicest hoodie, sweatpants, and a towel, telling the younger man to dry himself and change in the bathroom.

And Junhoe looks good in everything. Jiwon’s hoodie being one of them.

That night, the rain poured very heavily. Junhoe was sitting on Jiwon’s couch with a cup of hot chocolate that Jiwon made. They were sitting side by side, sharing a fluffy blanket. Junhoe communicated with Jiwon through his papers and then he would read Jiwon’s lips—they are talking about so many things that Junhoe’s book is almost full of his handwriting.

They talk about how Junhoe knows Jinhwan for a long time already. That their apartments are just a few blocks apart and how Jinhwan sometimes cooks for him. They talk about how Junhoe wasn’t born hard of hearing, that it developed when he was ten, and he didn’t even realized it back then. How his parents divorced when he was twelve and they both have married to other people and have their own family.

They talk about Jiwon’s cute nephew, about his family and how his mom who lives in the suburb always worried about him. About what he can do to ease Junhoe’s headache and how Junhoe likes music and how he feels them.

_“I can hear better if you use lower voice. Like when you whisper.”_ Junhoe writes.

“Really?” Jiwon asks, feeling strangely happy and relieved, even though he doesn’t even know why.

_“Yeah! Try!”_ He signs. Junhoe only signs simple things that he thinks Jiwon can understand. How thoughtful of him.

They sits facing each other on Jiwon’s long couch, with about an arm length between each other. Jiwon then leans towards Junhoe, moving closer to the younger’s right ear.

“I am hungry.” Jiwon whispers—more like he speaks with a really low tone.

Then Junhoe laughs—his eyes get narrower and oh, his perfect teeth.

_“You already ate a lot!”_ he signs then. Jiwon smiles back, at the same time being so happy that Junhoe really hears what he said.

_“Is it right?”_ the younger signs again, and Jiwon nods to it. Junhoe then bounce on the couch a little—smile so bright that Jiwon almost forgets his sad eyes. “... _do it again!”_

“Okay, okay… Hmmm…” Jiwon leans in again. The younger man looks so excited, like this is some games that he likes to play.

“...June…”

Hearing that, Jiwon can feel that the younger man freezes.

“...I like you.”

Jiwon cannot forget the look on Junhoe’s eyes that day—confused? Or happy? Or worried? He just froze for a few long seconds and Jiwon needs to reach out to his hands in order to get his attention again.

Jiwon smiles then. And eventually, Junhoe does too.

.

.

.

Months have let Jiwon learned a lot about Junhoe. He likes to watch movies about wars. He likes to feel afternoon breeze on his face. He loves music. He said he can feel music and even though Jiwon doesn’t really know how that works, there is this content feeling inside of him by knowing things that bring Junhoe joy.

Sometimes, after a long day, they would end up sitting side by side on the couch of Jiwon’s living room.

Since afternoon, Jiwon noticed that Junhoe had a hard time to focus. He would just stay still and blinks his eyes, like he’s not even there. Sometimes Jiwon caught him staring, eyes always look sad and Jiwon always want to ask him why.

Jiwon doesn’t, though.

“Are you okay?” Jiwon asks. Junhoe needs to blink a few times—his eyes look red. They are watching Dunkirk, another war movie of Junhoe’s choice, but the said person doesn’t seem to be able to concentrate at all.

_“Headache.”_ Junhoe signs.

“Do you want to lay down?”

Junhoe just nods.

Jiwon guides Junhoe to lay his head on his lap. Jiwon runs his fingers through Junhoe’s jet black hair, gently putting pressure to massage his head.

“Does it hurt a lot?” Jiwon said, almost like a whisper.

Junhoe looks up at Jiwon with heavy eyes and Jiwon is always so sad seeing Junhoe in pain. The younger man just closes his eyes and inhales deeply—but Jiwon wonders what’s running inside of his head.

_“I dream about you a lot.”_ Junhoe signs. Eyes still closed. _“Some of them aren’t nice.”_

What a coincidence. He wonders what Junhoe sees in his dreams. Are they the same dreams that he sees? Are they dreams about him? About cold autumn nights and lanterns. About swords. And blood sometimes?

“What are they about?”

Junhoe opens his eyes again. He’s thinking, eyebrows furrowed and lips pouting a little.

_“Sad things.”_ He signs slowly.

Jiwon smiles hesitantly.

“I dream about you a lot too.”

Jiwon strokes Junhoe’s hair ever so tenderly, speaking in low voice so Junhoe can hear him better. The younger man just looks at him with curious eyes, then he signs, _“What about?”_

Jiwon leans down and plants a kiss on Junhoe’s lips. It makes him smiles a little.

“Sad things.” Jiwon said then, stroking the side of Junhoe’s face.

_“In your dreams, do you love me?”_

Junhoe’s eyes are glassy with tears, as if the question is a burden to him. It doesn’t feel like they are talking about dreams at all, but the truth.

Jiwon wants to kiss away his tears, to soothe him and ensure that Jiwon is there with him. Jiwon doesn’t even realize that he’s crying too if not for Junhoe’s hand that wipes away the tears on his cheek.

“Very much.”

His voice cracks a little, his throat feels like it’s closing on him.

The things he sees in his dreams, how can he tell Junhoe about them? How it feels so real still has him searching for Junhoe once he opens his eyes. The way lights dimmed from those sad eyes etched in his memory like broken records that play over and over again.

_“I love you in my dreams too.”_

Junhoe signs. His hand then travels to Jiwon’s nape only to pull him down slowly, and then kiss him full on the lips.

For a while, no one speaks—there isn’t any need to. Jiwon just sits there, tangling his fingers on Junhoe’s soft jet black hair. The younger man closes his eyes and let Jiwon caresses the side of his cheek.

When Jiwon realized that Junhoe fall asleep, he smiles a little seeing how cute the younger man looks. His chest rises and falls as he takes steady breaths. If Junhoe looks beautiful when he’s working, or writing, or just eating… Jiwon thinks Junhoe looks the cutest when he sleeps.

Ever so gently, Jiwon reaches to Junhoe’s ears and carefully removes his hearing aids and places them on the table. Maybe they are what’s causing Junhoe headache.

Jiwon then helps Junhoe to lay in a more comfortable position, draping the blanket on his sleeping form very carefully.

It feels like he had watched him sleep before. Everything feels so familiar the protective instinct being the strongest of all.

.

.

.

(TBC)


	2. Then Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junhoe was the only thing Jiwon thought about before he lost consciousness completely. Of sad eyes. Of silk. Of ink. Of swords and thick red blood that paints it.

_“Don’t cry.”_

_Jiwon is reaching out his pale hand, and there were cuts and bruises there. The Crown Prince is frowning, not yet actually shedding tears. There is a look of regret there, sadness, also fear._

_“You are so stupid.” He said, but he catches the hand anyway. Jiwon smiles, but he gets a glare in return._

_“I am sorry, Your Highness.”_

_“Don’t call me that.”_

_“I am sorry, June…”_

_“You beat people up for what? You nearly kill them! The Palace could have punished you, they could have been ki_ _l_ _—” The Crown Prince sighs so loudly, “Don’t do this again, Jiwon…”_

_They are sitting inside Jiwon’s small house where he lay down, face and body are bruised from his punishment he received just the previous night. The Prince had rushed to meet him when he heard the news, the Eunuch was the only one who follows him._

_Jiwon had been punished with 100 beatings on his back after he beats someone up the day before, and no one knows why he did that. Jiwon refused to tell people the reason behind his action. Of course that didn’t go so well. The Palace’s authority had taken him for punishment in the middle of the night, he had passed out and now his body is numb from waist down._

_The Prince is inspecting all the injuries on Jiwon’s body with teary eyes. Sure, Jiwon had been punished here and there before, but it was never this bad. Usually the Prince could have stopped the punishment but this time he really had no idea at all._

_“I want to see your back.” The Prince said._

_“No…”_

_“This is an order, not a request.”_

_After a few sighs, Jiwon tries to sit and the Prince hurriedly help him by supporting his back. Jiwon is wincing and there are tears clouding his vision. The pain is not as unbearable as it was the night before, but his back still feels like it is on fire._

_Jiwon heard a gasp when The Prince takes off his robe._

_His back probably is bruised so badly, angry red with broken skin, he cannot even feel them because the pain had numbed him._

_“It’s okay… The pain will be gone in a few days, so—”_

_But Jiwon then feels added weight to his shoulder—the Prince had rested his forehead there._

_“Your Highness…,”_

_There is a hiss, as if the name had hurt him._

_“…June…” he begins, “people spread false rumour about you and they will go against you once you are crowned. That’s not true… I will kill those people who talk ill about you.”_

_There is silence for a while. The Prince’s breathing is fast yet heavy._

_“No matter what they say about me, don’t do anything. Just pretend that you don’t hear anything. I am used to this, Jiwon… They will talk about me no matter what I do.”_

_“But people want to take the crown away from you, even if that means they have to kill you.”_

_“…I know… I know, Jiwon. I know everything already.” The Prince is crying now, his hand touched Jiwon’s cold ones, “I don’t want the crown, Jiwon… I don’t want it. I want to be with you.”_

_“…June…” Jiwon holds on to the Prince’s hand back, “That’s not an option for us now…”_

_Jiwon doesn’t know how the Prince knows everything—how observant he is, how he assess the situation thoroughly._

_But when Jiwon looks at the Prince, he has tears down his cheeks. His eyes are looking down at the floor, long lashes shielding them from Jiwon. He is not crying because he is afraid. He cries because he knows everything—how what he wishes can never come true. How being with Jiwon will cost him so much, including his and Jiwon’s life._

_“I just want to protect you, June…”_

_Jiwon raises his hand and rests it on the Prince’s cheek, thumb ever so tenderly wipes the tear marks on it. The Prince closes his eyes and leans to the touch, then he inhales—like this is something that would heal him._

_“I know…” the Prince comes closer and wraps Jiwon’s bruised body in a hug, circling his arms just above Jiwon’s waist so carefully so it doesn’t hurt him more. His silky hanbok is soft against Jiwon’s bare chest, but his cheeks are warm on Jiwon’s neck._

_“I will be your knight.”_

_The Prince hums and he tighten his hug. Jiwon feels the wetness on his neck, and all he can do is caress the Prince’s back to soothe him a little._

_“Then stay…” he says. Barely above a whisper._

_“I will.”_

_._

_._

.

For half a year straight, things had been good to Jiwon in terms of work. His leader has developed a liking towards him, bringing him here and there for work or just for fun. He has been trusted to collect money from people, and he’s also been sent as delegation is his leader cannot be present.

Sometimes he needs to use force, though, only as a defence mechanism. When people are cornered, their brain tends to short-circuit and makes stupid or harmful decision. 

But as time goes by, the work has been nothing but cruel to people, especially when he has to collect money from widows or old people. The business has also expand outside Seoul and usually a little bit more dangerous. Especially when they need to claim territories, that’s usually when the fight broke. He’s been fighting because that’s what people told him to do, he never really knows which are friends and which are enemies. 

The peak of it all was when he witness his own friend gets stabbed on the chest—and it had happened so fast that he has no time to comprehend. Jiwon’s knees had given up then, his heart has beaten so fast that he thought he’d pass out. He didn’t remember being dragged by someone, leaving his friend there bleeding to death. Everyone had told him to forget what happened and never discuss about it ever again.

The scene replayed so many times inside of his head, how the light just went off from his friend’s eyes and how people act like he never even exist after what happened. It scares Jiwon, _damn,_ it sends chill down his spine. He should have known better from the start before he gets involved in this kind of thing. 

Then the next thing he knew is that his leader had risen suspicion towards him because he had refused to join any business after his friend’s death. He’s been hanging out at the café every day, never pick up calls or read texts from anybody in the gang. He’s been seeking comfort from Junhoe’s presence, trying to piece the puzzle of his dreams together, and find out where Junhoe fits between them.

But that’s before people dragged him to an alley and beat the life out of him, threatening to kill him and everyone around him. 

Junhoe was the only thing he thought about before he lost consciousness completely. Of sad eyes. Of silk. Of ink. Of swords and thick red blood that paints it.

.

.

.

He had been avoiding Junhoe then, not replying to his messages and not answering to his calls. Jiwon was hospitalized for two days and he had been staying with his friend Donghyuk for a week now. The swell on his eye has gone down a little, but it left a nasty purple bruise around it. He still has difficulties walking and the broken nose gives him constant headache. 

In the fifth day, Donghyuk has had enough. He throws Jiwon’s phone at him, bounced not so gracefully on his chest and landed on the floor.

“Sorry Jiwon, there’s someone by the door, I asked him to come here since you’re not picking up your goddamn phone.”

Jiwon understands that—he has been letting his phone rings, not checking them at all. Apparently Donghyuk has had enough and finally pick the calls up for him.

But at some point he needs to be meeting Junhoe again. He cannot hide forever. 

When he sees Junhoe, the younger man has red eyes, he looks even skinnier than the last time Jiwon met him. His eyes had gotten bigger when he saw Jiwon’s beaten up face, immediately reaching out his hand to caress the bruised temple. 

These are the eyes that Jiwon sees in his dreams. The sad, tearful eyes, that is full of regret, worry, and fear. 

“Why are you here?” Jiwon asks with a harsh tone. They are still standing face to face in front of Donghyuk’s apartment door.

Junhoe shakes his head. Then, he cries.

 _“Who did this to you?”_ he signs, but Jiwon is in too much pain and fear to be able to make sense of every signs Junhoe throws at him.

Junhoe looks small despite his big built, he looks sad and scared and Jiwon feels his heart being squished.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

_“Jinhwan said you hang out with weird people.”_

Jiwon looks at Junhoe’s hands when he signs, he isn’t brave enough to look at those tears on his eyes.

“I don’t understand you.”

But he does. He can understand what Junhoe means but he chooses to ignore it. When Jiwon is about to turn around and leave Junhoe there, the younger man grabs the sleeve of his white baggy shirt. 

_“Tell me what’s wrong. Who did this to you?”_ he signed even though his hands are shaking. Junhoe looks like he’s overwhelmed in so much emotions that he cannot even convey. His breathing is getting faster as he tries to hold his tears back, but failed. 

Jiwon sighs. He cannot show emotions, he cannot let Junhoe gets involved with him any longer for his own safety.

“Fuck, I don’t understand you! Please go away, I don’t have time for your bullshit!”

The younger man then makes a sign _“wait”_ and he fiddles with the zipper of his sling back, searching for the black note he keeps carrying around everywhere. His hands are shaking so badly right now that Jiwon wants to stop him, but instead, he does nothing. 

With shaky hands, Junhoe tries to write something on his note. Tears keeps clouding his vision that he needs to blink several times. 

“I don’t have time for this shit,”

When he’s about to walk inside and close the door, Junhoe stops the door with his one hand. His other hand is holding his note, showing the shaky handwriting for Jiwon to read.

_“Jiwon tell me what’s wrong I am so scared please explain this to me”_

“If you’re scared then don’t come anymore, OK? Just go, please, just go and never come back.”

Junhoe’s expression changed so drastically as if he’s been punched in the guts—he looks in pain and Jiwon cannot stand seeing him like that. He lifts his note again to write, but then Jiwon slaps it away too strongly until it drops and slides on the ground. 

“FUCK can’t you understand?!! You can’t be here!!! GO!!!”

And by that, Junhoe had cried openly, still trying to search Jiwon’s hand with his own to grab, to look for comfort, to seek for explanation. That touch had burned Jiwon, his sobs had sent pain straight to his chest. 

_“Don’t shout… I can’t understand… I cannot hear you.”_

Junhoe tried to sign with one hand while his other hand is still holding on to Jiwon. Jiwon’s heart breaks at each sobs. Those eyes are red and swollen and tears are constantly leaking to his now red cheeks. 

Junhoe keeps on gripping on Jiwon’s hand, mustering all his courage and strength to be able to hold on. When Jiwon looks at him, Junhoe can only shake his head, silently pleading for Jiwon to stop. For Jiwon to spare him, to give him explanation.

It scares Jiwon if people are watching him and they would see Junhoe—and he would be dragged into all this mess. It scares Jiwon even more if those people had followed Junhoe all along and he’s in equal danger as Jiwon is. It scares Jiwon how powerless he is, yet how he will risk everything to protect this man he loves.

“Junhoe, please…” Jiwon whispers. His throat hurts from holding back his tears. 

The younger man keeps shaking his head, he doesn’t let go of Jiwon’s hand as if it is his life line. 

“...I want to protect you, Junhoe…” Jiwon whispers, and Junhoe’s strength is gone completely that he falls to the ground, bringing Jiwon down with him. By then, Jiwon had cried too, he brings his hand to Junhoe’s nape and pull Junhoe until their forehead touched.

_“Then stay.”_

Jiwon then grabs Junhoe’s hands that are signing things to him, holding them so close against his chest. 

.

.

.

_“Crown Prince,” he greets, bowing down really low even though the Crown Prince always dislike he’s doing it. The Royal Highness is wearing his black robe, sitting upright while moving his brush on a piece of yellowish paper. His study desk is unusually messy, a proof that he’s been refusing people to enter his chamber._

_“You summoned me, and I’m here now, Crown Prince.”_

_He then slams his brush on the table, startling Jiwon who is still on his knees._

_“Two weeks.”_

_“My apology, Crown Prince. The bargain took more time than we planned.” he bows down still, never actually showing his face._

_But then the Prince walks towards Jiwon, his footsteps sounds heavy. His presence is always strong and his scent is soft and luxurious. Jiwon wants to lift his head, to see the Prince right on his eyes like what he always asks him to. But then he would see something that Jiwon desperately wants to hide._

_Jiwon is alarmed when the Prince drops on his knees just in front of him. He reaches his hands out instantly, barely brushing on the luxurious silk robe._

_When Jiwon lifts his head, their eyes meet. There are unshed tears there, making the sharp clear eyes look glassy._

_“You always have new wounds when you come back to me.”_

_The voice is barely above a whisper, spoken so softly that it fills Jiwon’s heart with endearment. His right hand reaches out to caress the fresh wound on Jiwon’s left eyebrow. His fingertips are soft and cold._

_“I am alright, Your Highness.”_

_The fingers trace the bruises on Jiwon’s jaw, down to the cut on his neck, down to rest on his chest._

_“Let me see.”_

_“Your Highness, I’m-”_

_“Jiwon, please…”_

_And Jiwon hates it. Princes don’t beg. Not to a low knight like Jiwon._

_But the thing that he hates the most is that look on the Prince--the sadness, the guilt, the regret. How his eyes gets red with unshed tears. How his fingers tremble, how his whole body feels cold._

_Jiwon doesn’t even know if he has anything to regret as long as the Prince is safe and sound._

_Jiwon wants to stop the Prince from undoing his jeonbok seeing how badly those hands shakes. But he doesn’t. The Prince already know what he might see and there is no way Jiwon can hide them anymore._

_There is a gasp. His skin is exposed. The wound on his left side, just below his ribs, is still bleeding, albeit slightly. His left shoulder was dislocated, wrapped up by a white cloth that goes to his back and just below his armpit._

_That, and many, many small bruises and cuts littered on his skin like sparks of fire. For Jiwon, this is like the price of his swords. The bargain he made in order to stay. Things he exchanged for life. For a little bit of love too._

_The Crown Prince doesn’t cry easily, Jiwon knows him already ever since they were kids. He doesn’t let his tears fall--and even if they do, he is very good at hiding it._

_The Prince then presses his face on Jiwon’s neck, scooting closer while gripping on Jiwon’s clothes._

_But he falls apart just like that. With a small sob that he stubbornly suppress. It tugs on Jiwon’s heartstring, sending him beyond physical pain he suffers right now._

_“I’m sorry they make you do this.” he whispers. Jiwon can feel how the Prince’s lips move against his neck--the salty tears were making his wounds sting a little but he says nothing about it._

_“This is my duty as a knight.”_

_“That was not a bargain, Jiwon… If it was, I would have known, and they wouldn’t have sent you alone.”_

_Jiwon knows. And it is wrong of him to underestimate the Prince’s observant eyes. People in the Kingdom have been backstabbing each other, everyone is trying to expose dirty secrets of everyone else and snatch the right to bear the crown--even when it means pouring blood on it._

_“Worry not, Crown Prince. I can handle the duty and--,”_

_“Jiwon...,” the grip on Jiwon’s clothes tighten, the young man in his embrace scoots even closer, pressing himself on Jiwon even more, “God, you don’t understand…”_

_Jiwon then grips on the Prince’s upper arms, so tenderly just like what he deserves to be handled, creating a space between them so he can look at those sharp eyes he adores._

_But the eyes are casted down. His cheeks are wet and he’s biting on his lower lip to suppress sobs._

_“Your Highness…,”_

_The Prince bows his back, as if that name had physically hurted him, but Jiwon holds him to keep him upright. He still doesn’t look at Jiwon at all._

_“June…,”_

_The mention of his little name makes the Prince froze. He lifts his head to look directly into Jiwon’s eyes. They are red but Jiwon thinks they are pretty. The light has dimmed from those two eyes. And Jiwon thinks both are equally painful: witnessing the fire dies, and being there to witness every little sparks died little by little, from time to time._

_“...June, listen to me,” he said. Firm yet soft at the same time, demanding but maintains the respect, it’s a command but it is gentle--like a request, more hopeful like a prayer._

_“...I know what they were trying to do. If I didn’t do this they will banish me from the military, meanwhile this is my only way to be with you.”_

_“They hurted you.” a hand finds its way back to cup the side of Jiwon’s face._

_“I am alright.” Jiwon tilted his face and nuzzles to the soft palm._

_At silence like this, Jiwon always wish to hear the Prince sings. It’s been awhile. And Jiwon thinks the Prince looks the happiest when he sings._

_Jiwon holds him tightly, letting the younger man rests on his bandaged chest. The Prince must be tired. Imagining how he found out about the bargain and how Jiwon was sent to the neighboring kingdom all by himself must have drained him._

_“...sleep.” Jiwon whispers. They are now laying on the floor. Jiwon lays on his back, meanwhile the Prince has his head on Jiwon’s chest, counting on his every heartbeat._

_“I’m thinking.”_

_“About what?”_

_The Prince then props his body on his elbow, looking at Jiwon straight to the eyes._

_“About us,” he rests his palm on Jiwon’s chest, “...what if I’m just me, and you’re just you. I am not a Prince, and you are not a knight. Maybe somewhere, sometimes, there will be another June… another Jiwon… Maybe that time, one of us would be a girl. Or maybe we will born in the time when people accept our kind of love.”_

_By the time he is saying the last sentence, his tears fall._

_“...I always pray for a time when love can be easy for us, Jiwon…”_

_And with every drop, Jiwon’s heart breaks a little more._

_Jiwon then gets up and gently flips their position--he rolls their body so the Prince is now laying on the floor._

_“I will find you then. In every lifetime. I will love you as much. I will love you when you are not a Prince… I will love you when you are a girl… I will love you when things are difficult… June, God, I will love you, as many times as it takes.”_

_Jiwon doesn’t realize he is crying until the Prince reaches his hand out to wipe the wet drop on Jiwon’s cheek._

_He then eliminates the distance between them and plants a kiss on the Prince’s forehead. Warmth fills Jiwon’s heart, thoroughly. Completely. All at once._

.

.

.

_“I don’t want you to go to Busan.”_

Junhoe signed with one hand. He then grips one of Jiwon’s hand tightly, not intending to let go of it even just for a second. Jiwon is lying on his back meanwhile Junhoe lies beside him with his right shoulder as pillow, breathing directly at his neck. Jiwon’s other hand is on Junhoe’s bare back, drawing little patterns absentmindedly. They let Junhoe’s flat be dark at night, relying only on a small bedside lamp that gives not enough light for the whole room. 

They have been lying on Junhoe’s bed for hours, covered only by sweat and Junhoe’s thin sheet. 

“June, I need to.”

When Jiwon finish his duty maybe he would be able to get away from all of this. Maybe finish everything he had started and move somewhere faraway—not going to be involved in this kind of thing anymore.

_“How long?”_

“I don’t know. Until the problem is solved.”

_“No… Please.”_

Jiwon adjusts their position so he is propped on the head of the bed, Junhoe still in his embrace. He then cups Junhoe’s face, holding his whole world in his two hands.

“June…,”

_“I have a bad feeling. Don’t go, Jiwon.”_

Jiwon moves his hands to grab Junhoe’s cold ones, not allowing them to sign anything anymore. 

“After all of this done, I will finally be able to get out of all this. This is the only way so I can be with you…”

Junhoe lets out a pained sob, as if this hurts him like never before. The worry is evident on his face, his tears conveys more than what he can communicate. The silent pleas are hurting both of them, but this is something that is out of Jiwon’s control. 

“I will always come back to you, June…”

Junhoe still shakes his head, silently pleading for Jiwon not to go. But then Jiwon reaches out to hold Junhoe’s face again, trying to get the younger man to focus on him.

“After all of this over… let’s run away. We will go somewhere safe, where nobody knows us. Just the two of us.”

There is a spark on Junhoe’s eyes then, as if he is just given a hope that he can hold on to. 

And Junhoe will take that as a promise. 

.

.

.

How naïve was he, to think that everything would be that easy.

.

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[TBC]

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Hi yall!

sorry it takes too long, i thought yall dont like Joseon AU so i was sad T.T

talk to me on [@twitter](https://twitter.com/runsoftbin) and [@curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/runsoftbin)

Next chapter there will be a girl! GUESS WHOOO

[AND CHECK OUT THIS FANART THIS IS HOW CROWN PRINCE JUNE LOOKED ](https://twitter.com/runsoftbin/status/1163726548433694721?s=20)


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